


Ruined

by cathcer1984



Series: Ruined Series [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Idiots in Love, Implied Switching, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Post-Canon, Sort Of, Teacher Peter Hale, Teacher-Student Relationship, Undercover Cop Stiles Stilinski, not explicit, of teenagers, on and off screen murder, or less even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23454553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathcer1984/pseuds/cathcer1984
Summary: “I can’t believe they let you near teenagers.” Stiles snarks, a smirk across his lips.Peter prowls down the row until he’s almost chest to chest with Stiles. “I’m a perfectly responsible and productive member of society.”“Really?” Stiles raises an eyebrow.“Of course. I haven’t killed anyone in about ten years.” Peter gives him a once over with his eyes, “I doubt you could say the same.”Stiles narrows his eyes.Peter moves, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “You’re here about the murders?”“It would be so easy if you were the murderer. Did you know that?”*Or the one where Stiles is an FBI agent undercover in the school where Peter teaches.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Ruined Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706581
Comments: 20
Kudos: 552





	Ruined

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me a while ago, and a recent thing on tumblr got me reinvested in it. 
> 
> I haven't done this much research on a fic in years. I hope you all appreciate it. 
> 
> I have more time and patience to write while in lockdown. Stay safe everyone.

Stiles scrubs a hand over his head as he hands his paperwork to the lady in front of him. She smiles tensely before clicking away at the keyboard. Shrugging his hoodie and his backpack further up his shoulder Stiles waits. 

"Here you go. First class is Advanced History with Mrs. Waters." 

"Thanks." Stiles bobs his head and looks at the timetable. The class, room number and teachers' initials are listed. After Advanced History (AW) Stiles has Advanced English (PH), break, Health (CB), Biology (OFR), lunch, study hall then Calculus (LD). 

It's going to be a full on day.

Advanced History is just as Stiles remembers it. He hands his information to Mrs. Waters and she makes him introduce himself, then he slinks into his seat and stares out the window. 

The snow capped mountains and pine tree forest are a different view to what he used to have in Beacon Hills, but Stiles isn't in California anymore. 

The first problem he encounters is in Advanced English. Stiles walks into the classroom with the crowd of teenagers but when he sees the teacher he freezes. 

Through the milling crowd the man at the front leaning against the desk stares at Stiles with brows furrowed and eyes narrowing. Surging into action Stiles pushes forward and hands over his slip giving his information as a new student. 

The teacher sucks in a deep breath. He nods, and Stiles goes to sit down the piercing blue eyes of Peter Hale following him. Stiles can feel it on the back of his neck. 

"Good morning, welcome to another year of high school." Peter glances around the room, gaze not lingering on anyone. "I am not going to assume more than two of you have done your summer reading. However, for the rest of you that have not, tough luck. We're starting today on Pride and Prejudice." 

The lesson flies by and Stiles takes notes like a good student. The bell rings and there's a flurry of movement, Peter raises his voice a little to be heard over the rustling. "Mr Smith, please stay behind. I'd like to discuss what you've missed." 

Stiles slumps down in his seat and scrubs a hand over his head. He's used to having hair to grip onto. He hasn't had a buzzcut since he was sixteen. The class empties around him, some of the students giving him pitying looks. 

The door closes after the last kid walks out and Stiles gets up from his desk, shrugging off his hoodie and standing tall. Peter knows who he is, there is no need to hide from him. 

"I can't believe they let you near teenagers." Stiles snarks, a smirk across his lips. 

Peter prowls down the row until he's almost chest to chest with Stiles. "I'm a perfectly responsible and productive member of society." 

"Really?" Stiles raises an eyebrow. 

"Of course. I haven't killed anyone in about ten years." Peter gives him a once over with his eyes, "I doubt you could say the same."

Stiles narrows his eyes. 

Peter moves, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "You're here about the murders?"

"It would be so easy if you were the murderer. Did you know that?"

Laughing Peter leans back against the chair behind him, arms crossing over his chest, his biceps stretching the fabric and at the same time pulling it tight across his chest. It's unfair the way Stiles' eyes are drawn to the muscles. "I don't think so, darling. I wouldn't be easy at all." 

"No. I suppose not." Stiles looks at Peter for a long minute. He's calmer, older and still as gorgeous. "Got anything to help?"

"Help the FBI? Agent Stilinski you flatter me so." 

"Peter." There is something in Stiles' tone that makes Peter stop and look at him. "There are kids dying, Peter, they're just kids." 

"I'll keep an ear out. I've found nothing overly suspicious around here." 

"Overly?" 

"The crime scenes have been clean." 

Stiles nods, he knows that he's read the files and seen the forensics reports. 

"Don't misunderstand me, darling, they're clean of _everything_. Even scents."

"How do you know that?" Stiles asks sharply.

"I visited them. Long after the cops had gone, they were still clean of scents. Something is stopping scents from being left there, even weeks after the murders."

Sucking in a deep breath Stiles filters that information away. "Probably supernatural. No wonder they sent me." 

"You're the best, Stiles, of course they sent you." Peter shifts his head slightly then takes a step away. Lowering his voice he says quickly, "someone is coming." 

"Thanks," Stiles whispers as he pulls on his hoodie and the teenager persona, hunching his shoulders and glaring at the floor as the door opens. 

"Oh I'm sorry, Pete. I didn't realise you were busy." It's a woman, beautiful in a kind sort of way, she smiles warmly at Stiles. "Are you new, honey?" 

"This is Stuart Smith, Wendy. I was just catching him up on the summer reading he missed." Peter turns his back to Stiles, ignoring him as he walks towards Wendy. She blushes as he gets closer, offering his arm and Stiles finds himself tamping down on a surge of jealousy. Peter turns to him, eyebrow raised in interest. "You're dismissed Mr. Smith." 

Stiles glares at them both as he grabs his bag and stomps out the room. Peter smoothly steps aside so Stiles won't bump into him. It brings him closer to Wendy. In that moment Stiles hates Peter, flaunting and flirting so easily with a colleague when he wouldn't even acknowledge _Stiles_ in Beacon Hills, let alone their relationship. 

The rest of the day passes in a blur of classes. Stiles is in a foul mood, he's usually so calm and controlled under his persona when he's undercover. Trust Peter Hale to ruin that. Just like he ruined everything else when he broke Stiles' heart all those years ago.

Stiles and Peter became close during the Wild Hunt and, after they returned, sought each other out. They weren't friends, not at first but Stiles took comfort in knowing that Peter was real. On the eve of his eighteenth birthday Stiles had kissed Peter. Peter's response was to take Stiles to bed and explore every inch of him. 

They fell into bed more often after that. Only, Peter became more distant emotionally. When Stiles had confronted him about it, before he left for Quantico, Peter had laughed in his face, cold and cruel. Sex without emotions is what Peter does best. While Stiles was just a silly little distraction that got his heart involved along with his dick. 

Stiles left for Quantico, he came back when the Pack needed him. Surprisingly, with Derek and Peter had hated that. He'd been sour, yet affectionate when they found themselves alone. Stiles only had so much will power. He'd fallen into Peter's bed again, the night after they'd defeated the Anuk-Ite. 

And he'd left it the next morning while Peter was still sleeping. 

Now, years down the line and Peter still gets under his skin. And Stiles is still in love with him. Just as before, Peter is giving his attention to someone else, ignoring Stiles and fucking with his head. Which could screw up his investigation, and he can't afford that. These kids can't afford that. 

It's late in the evening when a knock sounds on his door. Stiles is set up in a suburban house with everything he needs to look like a high-schooler and be an FBI agent. The official word is he's the kid of a single parent who is away on business a lot.

It's not until he's half way to the front door that Stiles realises the knock came from the backdoor. He changes direction taking slow steady steps.

"Stop messing around, and open the door."

Shoulders dropping as the tension releases. Stiles stomps over to yank the door open. Peter barges his way in, briefcase in hand.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Stiles demands.

Peter smirks as he stops by the small kitchen table, opens his briefcase and pulls out a thick brown file. "I thought you'd like some help."

"I've already done my English homework."

"You're hilarious." Peter says flatly. "It's my notes on the murders."

Stiles finds himself taking a step forward. "You have notes on the murders of three teenagers? That's not creepy at all."

There's a weighted moment when Peter pauses, he puts his hand on top of the file. He's controlled, but Stiles knows him well enough to see the anger there. "Do not forget, Stiles, that I knew these teenagers. There were in my classroom almost every day. Marcus was an incredible athlete, he hated Shakespeare and loved making Joann laugh. Savannah was clever and kind, she was a brilliant writer on any topic. Joann-"

"Alright." Stiles' voice is hoarse. "I underst-"

"Joann." Peter repeats louder as if Stiles hadn't interrupted, "wasn't the best academic student. She struggled with mental health issues, skipped class but she was a phenomenal artist. She was Marcus' best friend."

"I'm sorry. Peter, I really am." Stiles swallows around the lump in his throat.

"They might be victims to you and a case to solve but this is personal for me. For us." Peter's eyes are glassy as he stares at Stiles. "You come in and you'll breeze out."

Stiles feels awful.

"Peter." Stiles says again. He keeps his voice soft as he comes close enough to rest his hand on top of where Peter's sits on the file. "I appreciate how hard this is for you."

"Do you? Really?" Peter gazes at him intently. It's overwhelming for Stiles. He's never seen Peter so open, vulnerable, not even when they were alone in bed together.

"Of course I do, Peter." Stiles curls his fingers firmly around Peter's hand, his other arm coming up so he can rest his hand on Peter's shoulder. "I will do everything I can to find who's doing this and stop them."

"I have no doubt." Peter gives a little upwards quirk of his lips in a facsimile of a smile.

Stiles blinks and looks down at the file. He clears his throat and drops his hands away. "I'll go and get my laptop." He tries not to hurry as he leaves the room, he still hears the way Peter sighs.

When he returns Peter has sat himself down at the table the file open and the paperwork in four piles. "One for each student," Peter explains, "and one for the perpetrator."

"Okay." Stiles pulls his personal files up on his laptop then slides it over to Peter. He can't hand over the FBI ones but the notes he's made, detailed as they are, will give Peter some new information. They read each others' work in silence.

"Your grammar is atrocious." Peter remarks.

"Don't care." Stiles shrugs.

"You will." Peter smirks at him. It makes Stiles laugh a little. Soon enough they're combing their notes, trading ideas and working well together. Like they always did when they'd researched for the Pack. It makes Stiles nostalgic.

"I'm going to make some tea. You want anything?"

"Whatever you're having will be fine," Peter doesn't look up from his writing.

Stiles goes to the little kitchen and makes the tea. As the kettle boils he watches Peter, it would be so easy to fall into their old ways. Drape himself against Peter's back, kiss up his neck until he'd be pulled around and his mouth devoured. It wouldn't be the worst decision Stiles has made. Hell, it wouldn't even make the top ten. Then Peter makes a humming noise in his throat.

"What?"

"I didn't realise Savannah was seeing Wendy."

The woman's name causes Stiles to sneer. He doesn't like her. Well, he didn't like the way Peter treated her. "She's the guidance councillor right?"

"Yes. You met her briefly today," Peter glances up at Stiles, "I'm sure you'll be called to her office in the next couple of days. She likes to meet all the students at least once."

"Oh right." Stiles bobs his head and drums his fingers on the countertop. "Anything I should know?"

"The kettle has boiled." Peter points out.

Stiles rolls his eyes as he turns to fill the teapot. "I meant about her, _Wendy_."

Peter hums, there's a tone of disapproval in it that Stiles steadfastly ignores. "She's human. Her sister is the Alpha of the local Pack so she's in the know, as it were. Wendy is a lovely lady. All the students seem to like her."

"And some of the staff." Stiles mutters.

"Yes," Peter agrees. "Us staff like her too."

Pouring the tea gives Stiles something to focus on. Once he's back in his seat, one cup in his hands the other waiting for Peter, he asks "you're surprised Savannah was seeing her. Why?"

"Most students don't see Wendy regularly. Those that do are there for a variety of reasons. Joann suffered severely from depression, had an appointment every Wednesday at eleven." At Stiles' raised eyebrows Peter lifts a shoulder, "some terms is meant she would miss my class. Marcus would see her on a semi-regular basis. Mostly when Joann was going through a particularly difficult time. A lot more these last two months after she had tried to commit suicide. Marcus had been the one to find her. Call the ambulance." Peter looks down at his tea, unseeingly. He looks worn and Stiles' chest aches for him.

"I read the police file about Joann's..." Stiles trails off he doesn't want to say murder. Peter nods though, understanding what Stiles isn't saying. "She fought Peter. At the end, all the way to her last breath she fought to live. Joann didn't want to die, not really, not when faced with it."

"I-" Peter's throat works as he swallows. He takes a sip of tea. "Thank you, for letting me know that."

Stiles nods in acknowledgement. "According to Wendy, Savannah has been going in for the last six months. Mostly after school sessions, so she didn't miss class."

"And we don't know why." Peter murmurs.

"Nope." Stiles flicks some paperwork up with his thumb. "She wouldn't tell the cops, doctor-client privilege or some shit like that."

"That is an actual thing Stiles." Peter looks amused.

"I know. It gets in the way though, this is a goddamned murder investigation. More than even, a serial killer. She could break it."

Peter looks over at him sharply. "If she did none of her current clients would trust her."

"She's a teacher, they're students stop calling them clients."

"Wendy is a trained clinical psychiatrist. She has her PhD in teenage psychiatry. That means they are her clients." Peter snaps, "and it's not just students she sees."

"Oh." Stiles says quietly. Then he takes in the tightness of Peter's shoulders, the way he's refusing to look at Stiles, the muscle jumping in his jaw, and it hits him, " _oh_."

Peter stands abruptly. "I should be getting home. I have papers to mark."

"You don't have to go." Stiles feels a little helpless, "you've not finished your tea yet."

It takes a moment of Peter glaring down at the still steaming, full cup. He sits again, slowly.

"Let's shelve this, for tonight. Tell me about how you became a teacher." Stiles closes the laptop and tidies the paperwork. Giving Peter time to collect himself.

"Before the fire I was a lawyer. I used to see so many kids," he nods at the papers. "Like Joann, getting into trouble and after everything in Beacon Hills I decided that the courtroom is ... It's too late. The best place to give them what they need is the classroom. I did a one year teaching certificate, I'd had an English Literature degree before law school."

"You enjoy it." Stiles observes.

"They're pains in my ass." Peter grins. "I worked with Wendy and Mike, the gym teacher and Jorge, he's the art teacher, to get a class schedule that works for all the kids. Different learning techniques and styles, for each kid's different needs. My classroom is a safe space for them. For most it's the only safe space they've got."

"So it's not all fanboying over Mr Darcy."

Peter laughs, it's such a contrast to his earlier melancholy that Stiles grins. "You'll see for yourself."

"I suppose I will." Stiles takes another sip of tea. "Do you keep in contact with Derek and Cora?"

"Cora more. She always was my favourite." Peter frowns, "do you not.."

"No." Stiles says shortly. "Scott thought I was turning out like his dad.There's a story there. Derek's a Luddite, I call him when I can. See him when I'm in Washington but no, I don't talk to anyone else."

"Not even Lydia?"

"She didn't want anything to do with me after she found." Stiles flaps a hand between them. "That we'd had a fling."

"A fling." Peter repeats, Stiles can't read his tone.

"Or whatever you want to call it. I mean she found out after it had long finished. I think it was my second year out of Quantico and she was doing a key notes speech. We got a little drunk, information came out and... She hasn't spoken to me since."

"I see."

Stiles snorts. "No you don't."

"You're right I don't. Why does it matter to her that you'd had _a fling_ with me?"

"Because it's you. You haunted her."

"For a month. It was barely haunting."

"You possessed her."

Peter nods, conceding the point. "Nuance."

Shaking his head, Stiles hides a smile behind his cup. "She thought I was insane for letting you get that close. Tried to psychoanalyze me, told me it was residual from the Nogitsune. A need for chaos and dangerous behaviours."

"Ah. And you took that well I presume."

"Sure did." Stiles mockingly raises his cup in a toast. "Told her to go fuck herself. She can call me when she wants to apologise."

"And you haven't spoken to her since." Peter nods, face clearing of confusion. "I see. And Scott?"

Stiles catches Peter's eye. "He saw me when I was undercover in L.A. and I did something's he didn't like."

Peter's eyebrows rise.

"He's got a very black and white view of the world, Scott does." Stiles bites his lip. "I do things undercover, you have to understand that I do what I do for the greater good."

"I understand." Peter says.

"Sometimes I have to pull the trigger." Stiles swallows and looks away from Peter's gaze.

"Stiles," Peter waits until he has Stiles' attention. "I understand that, darling."

With a small nod, Stiles falls quiet.

"I heard about your father." Peter comments lightly.

"He's doing alright." Stiles smiles, "I'm glad he's happy. And safe out of Beacon Hills."

"Did you go to the wedding?"

"I was best man." Stiles puffs his chest proudly. It makes Peter laugh again. "Nadia is brilliant. She keeps him in line. I see them two, three times a year and ring when I can. Dad hates my job, but he gets it, you know."

"You don't have to be an FBI agent, Stiles. You could easily go freelance."

"Yeah, but then I would have to hack into the resources which take so much time."

"You wouldn't have to follow so many rules. You could save a lot of time by circumventing the system and not filling out paperwork."

Stiles chuckles. "They never tell you about the paperwork when you join."

"No one does." Peter agrees. He sets his now empty cup on the table and seem reluctant as he speaks. "I really should go."

You could stay, is on the tip of Stiles' tongue but he bites his lip to keep his mouth shut. He's already more emotionally invested in this investigation because of Peter, he doesn't need things to get more complicated by falling into bed with him. There's something else stopping him too, Stiles is sure that if he asks Peter will say no.

Then the reason for why would distract him from his job. Would it be because he's over Stiles? Stiles really was just a distraction. Or is it because of Wendy? Are she and Peter an item? Does Stiles want to find out?

So Stiles does nothing but stand as Peter does. "You can keep the file. I have a feeling it'll be safer here with you, than me lugging it around everywhere."

"Still paranoid?"

"Cautious." Peter corrects with a smirk. He heads towards the backdoor. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."

"Goodnight Peter." Stiles watches him as he disappears into the dark of the night. When he can no longer see Peter Stiles shuts and locks the door. He feels light and happy, reality comes crashing round him when he sees the papers on the table. He has a job to do and Peter Hale has broken his heart once before, Stiles can't - won't - let him do it again.

*

The next day at school Stiles is summoned from gym to see Wendy, or as the name on her door says: Dr. W. Johnson, Guidance Councillor. He glares at her closed door.

A few minutes later it opens and a boy with red-rimmed eyes comes out, he's glaring at the floor. Wendy watches him go, Stiles can't read the expression on her face well. It's a disconcerting look though and makes him uncomfortable.

Her face completely transforms when she turns to face him, she smiles warmly. "Stuart, come on in."

Stiles stands, shoulders hunched as he slouches by her. The office has a desk pushed up against the window, with a computer and chair. The main space of the room is four comfy chairs, there's a plant in one corner, some pictures on the walls and a framed certificate advertising Wendy's PhD in clinical psychiatry.

Flinging himself into one of the chairs Stiles drops his bag to the floor, crosses his arms over his chest. The snick of the door shutting sounds loud in the room, Wendy moves to take her seat opposite Stiles, her footsteps almost inaudible.

"Hello Stuart. I'm Wendy. Thank you for taking time out of your day to see me."

"It's gym class." Stiles gives her the finger guns, "I'm thanking you, Doc."

"I just wanted to meet you, get to know you a little. I do this with all the students." Wendy smiles at him, it's meant to be reassuring. It's not. "My office is a safe space and a judgement free zone."

Stiles glares at the floor. He really doesn't want to be here.

Wendy waits a little, then says "your dad works a lot doesn't he?"

"Yeah. So?"

"How does it make you feel to be home while he's out of town?"

Narrowing his eyes Stiles snaps "fan-fucking-tastic."

"Language, Stuart."

"I thought this was a judgement free zone?" Stiles sneers at her. "You're judging my language."

Wendy takes a subtle deep breath, most people wouldn't notice it but Stiles is a trained observer. "And what about your mom, Stuart?"

"You seem to have read my file. You tell me."

"I want to hear it form you."

Stiles isn't even faking his frustration and reluctance. "She's dead. In the grave, being eaten by worms or whatever. Happy?"

"Are you happy Stuart?" Wendy counters. "You don't have to answer, I can see you don't want to talk to me and that's absolutely fine. Some male teenagers don't like talking to a woman. Is there a male staff member you'd feel comfortable talking with, if you need to?"

Immediately, Peter's face pops up in Stiles' mind. He ducks his head. "No."

"If you do want to speak to someone male, I can suggest Mr Hale. Your English Literature teacher. He's very open to discussions with students."

Stiles thinks about Peter on his back, thighs spread as Stiles had fingered him open. It makes his cheeks flush.

"Oh Stuart, it's perfectly normal to have a crush on one of your teachers. So long as you don't act on it."

Gritting his teeth, Stiles meets Wendy's gaze defiantly. "Can I go?"

She glances at her watch. "Alright. I'll check in with you soon, see how you're settling in."

"Right." Stiles stands and flings his bag onto his back. He wants to get away from her as soon as he can, she's too perceptive. Stiles yanks the door open and stumbles a little when he sees Peter waiting outside.

"Hello," Peter smiles at him. "Are you alright, St- Mr Smith?" His gaze flicks over Stiles' shoulder.

With a nod Stiles grunts "yeah."

"Pete," Wendy's voice is warm and the smile Peter gives her in response is beautiful and genuine. "Come on in."

"I'll see you in class Mr Smith." Peter says dismissively over his shoulder as he walks smoothly into Wendy's office. The door shuts behind them and Stiles feels irrational anger and jealousy rising in him. The bell rings and he stops his way to his chemistry class.

*

Peter's class in the last lesson of the day for Stiles. He's angry, frustrated and jealous. At lunch time he'd been pushed into a row of lockers, had his tray tipped over so Stiles had barely had anything to eat. It's not a good day, he just wants to go home and work on the case. He's sick of being surrounded by hormonal teenagers and seeing Peter again daily but not allowing himself to have him. Stiles can't afford to fall in love with him again.

Sitting at the same seat as yesterday in the middle of the room, Stiles can't stop himself from fidgeting. Peter glances at him once then ignores him, and the noises he's making with his bouncing leg, tapping foot, drumming fingers. The other students are turning in their seats to glare at him, especially when he starts clicking the pen on and off uncontrollably.

So he starts to twirl it between his fingers and it goes sailing across the room, hitting a picture-perfect preppy blonde girl in the shoulder, Stiles thinks her name is Stacey or Macy. "Mr Smith!" Peter says loudly, a vindictive part of Stiles is pleased he's finally got the man's attention. "Are you alright Miss Young?"

Stacey or Macy nods, her cheeks pink under Peter's kind attention. When he turns back to face Stiles, she glares at him. Stiles rolls his eyes. Peter raises his eyebrows, "Mr Smith, kindly refrain from throwing your pen at other students."   
"It wasn't deliberate." Stiles snarls back.

The students around him gasp. Peter draws himself up to full height, his shoulder back and he looks down his nose at Stiles. It makes Stiles want to get into his face, but he shrinks back into his seat instead. "I understand that you are new here, Mr Smith but backchat is not tolerated in my classroom. Go and wait in the hall."

"Are you fucking serious?" Stiles gapes at him.

"Now!" Peter shouts.

Stiles opens his mouth but shuts it again, at the look on Peter's face. He shoves out of his seat and stomps his way out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Peter starts talking about the damned book while Stiles seethes outside, once again ignored. The bell sounds a long time later, students flood the hallway. Some of them are laughing at Stiles, others give him pitying looks but most ignore him. The class start to come out and Stiles pushes his way back in to get his bag. He gets elbowed in the stomach by Stacey or Macy. She smirks at him, so he bares his teeth at her in an unkind smile.

The door shuts firmly behind the last students and Stiles is left alone with Peter. He puts his bag over one shoulder. "Stiles," Peter says firmly. "You can't go yet."

"Why the fuck not?"

"My students, and the staff know me well enough that if I send someone out, I talk with them afterwards." Peter comes towards him. Stiles sits on the desk. "You seem tense." Peter rests his hand on Stiles' thigh, rubbing up and down in a comforting gesture.

"You think?" Stiles rolls his eyes. "I've got impossible murders to solve, a goddamned psych on my case, hormonal teenagers and you to contend with."

"Me?" Peter has the audacity to look surprised.

"You know you get under my skin and in my head. It's not fucking helping Peter." 

Peter licks his lips his grip tightens on Stiles' thigh. It's enough of a signal to make Stiles haul Peter in by his hair and kiss him. It's rough, messy, full of teeth and tongues and spit. They kiss until Stiles' lungs burn, he tips his head back to suck in air, Peter tugs his shirt down to bite and bruise at the skin of Stiles' lower neck and collarbone.

Suddenly Peter is taking a quick step back. "Someone is-"

The door opens and Wendy comes in, she pauses with her eyes flying from Peter to Stiles and back. Stiles stands and stumbles into the desk in front, Peter steadies him with a hand on his elbow. His other hand coming up to tug Stiles' shirt collar back into place, hiding the hickey.

Stiles hikes his bag on his shoulder, "good talk Mr Hale."

Peter has spit slick lips and his gaze lingers on Stiles' mouth where the skin in tender from Peter's stubble. Stiles knows his lips are probably red and puffy from the kiss. "I'll see you in class tomorrow Mr Smith. Do not be disruptive again."

"Gotcha." Stiles flicks his gaze up and Peter's hand flies to his hair, he tries to smooth it down as Stiles stumbles away. He briefly meets Wendy's gaze, but he rushes out before she can say anything.

The door shuts firmly and Stiles lingers long enough to hear Wendy say "what are you doing, Pete?"

"It's not what you think, Wendy."

"He's a student!" Wendy is outraged. "I should report you for this."

"It's not what you think." Peter repeats again.

Stiles walks away letting Peter deal with it.

*

He's not home for much more than twenty minutes when his work phone rings. Stiles has got his laptop open and it reading through everything on Wendy Johnson. It's not a lot. Stiles has contacted his handler, Agent Boone to get a warrant for the records of her patients. He's convinced she's involved in some way.

"Stilinski." Stiles answers the call.

"Agent Stilinski, this is Deputy Grey. The Sheriff asked me to inform you that we've got another murder."

"Right. What's the address?"

Deputy Grey tells him and Stiles writes it down. "Thank you, I'll be there in about fifteen minutes." Stiles hangs up and gets himself ready. He pulls on his FBI suit, the crisp white shirt, black slack and jacket, thin black tie and shiny black dress shoes. He puts his gun into his holster and tucks his badge into the inside jacket pocket. Then, Stiles slides on a pair of thick rimmed glasses. He looks in the mirror, Stiles looks like an older version of himself. Hopefully people that see him think he's Stuart Smith's dad.

He slips through the house into the garage and drives the sensible car to the crime scene. It's still afternoon, there's a lot of light about that it's muted the blue and red flashes of the police cars.

There's an officer at the doorway of the old building. It's an abandoned apartment block. Stiles flashes his badge and walks in. There's another officer at the door to the old manager's office. Stiles shows his badge again and walks in.

When he sees the body Stiles takes a deep breath, he can't look away from her blonde hair though, as it fans out around her head. "Agent Stilinski?" Stiles looks at the woman who speaks. She's short, hair in a bun, with a grim expression. "I'm Sheriff de Vega."

They shake hands, before Stiles and the Sheriff are handed gloves to put on. "What makes you sure this is the serial killer?"

"Same type of location." de Vega answers. "Isolated, abandoned."

Stiles crouches down and presses two fingers to the cheek of the corpse. "Cold but not stone cold. She hasn't been dead long."

"No. We'll get forensics to verify that."

There are bruises around the girl's neck from where she was choked to death by humanoid hands. "Different cause of death. What makes you so sure it's a serial killer and not just an increase in homicides?"

de Vega snorts and Stiles glances up at her. She points to the wall across the room, there on a broken mirror are two equilateral triangles. One upside down, the other right side up, they're drawn onto the surface in lipstick.

"They are at each crime scene. Media don't know, we've kept that from them. Drawn in mud on the first victim's body. Carved into the tree where the second victim was found. Third victim's own blood was used to draw it on the window near her body." de Vega's voice shakes a little. She's not unaffected by these deaths.

Stiles looks around. "I'm going to need a minute, Sheriff."

She gives him a look as she leaves. As soon as the room is empty, Stiles closes his eyes and lets tendrils of his Spark out to canvas the room. It flares constantly, there's magic in the air. Strong magic, that's keeping the crime scene free of evidence. He can narrow things down but not enough. Stiles will need to see the body. He looks down, into the girl's face and sighs. Not now though.

Standing Stiles pulls off his gloves. He balls them up and puts them in the rubbish bag outside. "Let me know when the body is at the morgue, Sheriff. There's nothing more I can do here."

"Roger that, Agent." de Vega nods and the FBI forensic team head on in. Stiles heads back to his home base, mind whirring. It's dark when Stiles gets back and he's a little perturbed to find the lights on in his house. He parks in the garage, puts his hand on his gun and makes his way inside.

"Where have you been?" Peter calls out from the kitchen.

Stiles makes his way there. Peter is sitting at the kitchen table with the files and laptop open in front of him. He doesn't look up when Stiles enters. "Why are you looking into Wendy? She's got nothing to do with this."

"Peter." Stiles keeps his voice low and calm.

"By the way I managed to convince her that what she thinks she saw this afternoon, she didn't actually see-"

"Peter." This time Peter looks up at him. He freezes, eyes roving over Stiles' body.

"I see. This is a good look for you."

"There's been another murder." Stiles walks forward, close enough that he can reach out and touch Peter, if he needs to.

Peter's chest expands as he takes in a deep, calming breath. "Tell me."

"Out in an old-"

"Who."

Stiles licks his lips, he sets his hand on Peter's shoulder. "It's Macy Young, Peter."

He watches as Peter closes his eyes, a tightness showing in the corners as he tips his head back. Stiles moves his hand along Peter's shoulder and into his hair, he tugs and Peter comes easily. Peter rests his face against Stiles' stomach, the material getting damp and Peter brings his arms up to curl around Stiles' hips.

Tossing the glasses onto the table Stiles bends over and presses his lips to Peter's hair, over and over, offering what little comfort he can. They stay like that until Peter's phone rings. Even as they move slowly apart, Peter keeps one arm around Stiles, who leaves his hand in Peter's hair.

"Hello." Peter manages to sound calm. "Oh Wendy, how are you?" There's a pause and Peter nods while Wendy talks. "Thank you for letting me know. I- no I'm not alone. An old friend, yes that one. Don't, Wendy. Not tonight. I'll see you in the morning. Night."

Stiles makes a questioning sound in the back of his throat. 

"Wendy's just heard from Julia, the principal. She wanted to be the one to let me know about Macy. Make sure I was alright."

"You two seem rather close." Stiles tries to keep the bitterness out his voice, he doesn't succeed. Peter pulls back and stares up at him in disbelief.

"What do you mean by that?"

Stiles takes a moment to gather his thoughts. "There's a lot of rumours around the school about the two of you."

"Students talk, Stiles." Peter's not denying it though, and that rankles at Stiles.

Taking a step back Stiles tries to control himself, his emotions but as Peter's arm falls away he feels cold and bereft. This day has been long and challenging. He shakes his head. "I'm not doing this with you."

"Doing what, Stiles?"

Stiles throws his hand up to wave between them. "Nothing. This." He groans in frustration. "I'm not doing this."

"Go on then," Peter sounds defeated. "Walk again."

"That's not fair." Stiles snaps.

Peter stands up then. "No? Was it fair to leave my bed while I was still sleeping? And now, years later you're jealous of me and Wendy."

"Urgh, enough about fucking Wendy." Stiles shouts. He turns and heads for the living room.

Of course Peter follows him. "You don't like her and you're letting that cloud your judgement. Trying to force her to fit into your puzzle where she just doesn't fit."

"She fits. There's a connection there, Peter. I just have to find it."

Peter stares at him. "Do you hear yourself?"

"The victims were all regular visitors to her office, Peter. I have to double check about the latest one but-"

"They have names!" Peter shouts. He's angry and upset.

The fight leaves Stiles. "You're upset, Peter. We shouldn't talk about this right now." Stiles goes to walk up the stairs and Peter scoffs behind him.

"Why do you keep walking away from me?" He demands.

Taking a short sharp breath Stiles faces him. "Because it's easier. You get in my head. You fuck with my mind and I can't deal with it. Not when I'm on goddamned job."

Peter punches out a whoosh of air. "It's easier?"

Swallowing, Stiles nods. "Yeah."

"Why can't you just talk to me, sweetheart?"

"Stop it." Stiles hisses. "Don't do that shit again. Stop acting like you give a fuck."

"Of course I care, Stiles." Peter says firmly, "I always did."

"You cared?" Stiles doesn't believe it.

Rearing back as if he'd been hit Peter blinks at Stiles, his hand dropping away. "You think I didn't?"

"Why would I think you _did_?" Stiles stumbles back a step. "You ignored me in public. You didn't let the Pack know, you broke my fucking heart and you didn't notice. You didn't even notice!"

"I noticed." Peter says quietly.

"You laughed at me."

Peter nods, he looks pained. "I couldn't let you love me."

Stiles is breathing heavily. He's confused. "What?"

"I would have destroyed you." Peter says. He's looking at Stiles so intensely. "You loved me and had to stop it before I ruined you. You think I'm not in a good headspace now? Back then, I hadn't gotten over what happened to my Pack, to me. I wanted everyone to hurt like I did."

"Even me?"

"Yes. Not immediately after the Wild Hunt but when you kissed me, it was so easy to take everything." Peter's eyes haven't left Stiles' face. But Stiles finds his eyes burning.

"Stop." Stiles pleads on a breath.

Peter doesn't. "I wanted it. Wanted you, for a long time and you let me. After everything I'd done, you let me. You trusted me. Eventually you _loved_ me. I didn't need Derek and Lydia and Scott and Malia and your father and Christopher fucking Argent to tell me that I wasn't any good for you. I already knew that."

"Peter."

"So I did what I do best. I _ruined_ you. Just I like knew I would." Peter gives him a sad, regret-filled look.

Stiles takes a step forward. Peter touches his face lightly with the tips of his fingers, brushing away the dampness. "After I woke up alone, I knew I had to get out. I called in favours with some Packs I knew. The Alpha here let me stay on one condition."

"What was that?" Stiles knows he says the words but he doesn't hear them.

"Wendy." Peter smiles. "She's not just a psychiatrist for the students. I'm technically still one of her patients. Though I haven't needed her until recently."

"The murders?"

Peter gives Stiles a soft, fond look as he cups Stiles' cheek in his palm. "You."

With a frown Stiles shakes his head. "I don't understand."

"You came back into my life. Older, more confident and just a effervescent as you always have been. I needed to talk with Wendy. You're the one that got away." Peter shrugs almost helplessly.

"What am I supposed to do with this, Peter?"

"Whatever you want. You don't have to do anything. I merely thought, and Wendy agreed, that you should know you didn't fall in love alone."

Stiles stands there not knowing what to think. Half of him is elated, half of him cautious and all of him confused. Peter drops his hand, stands there for a moment more then strides off to the kitchen. He rustles about and Stiles knows he's packing up. There are murders to solve but Stiles won't get much don't until he's seen the body.

He moves to stand in the doorway to the kitchen. Peter is tidying up, papers in their piles and laptop closed. "You don't have to go."

"Do you want me to stay?"

"I don't want to be alone tonight." Stiles answers honestly. "Peter, stay with me, baby."

Peters face softens and he loses the tension in his shoulders. He steps forward and pulls Stiles into a tight hug. "Of course."

"Well sort it out in the morning." Stiles says and he doesn't even know if he's referring to the case, their mess of a relationship or the stuff on the kitchen table.

*

The sound of buzzing wakes Stiles, he's a light sleeper especially when he knows he's going to get woken up. The text tells him to go into the morgue, the clock tells him it's nearing half-past three in the morning. Looking across the bed Stiles watches as Peter breathes evenly in his sleep.

Neither of them wanted to be alone last night but they weren't ready for sex or intimacy after the exchange. They'd got into opposite sides of the bed and that had been that.

He slips out and heads to the bathroom to have a perfunctory shower. When Stiles is dressed and ready he goes back to the bedroom and pockets his phone. Making a snap decision Stiles bends over Peter and stokes his hand through Peter's hair. "Peter," he says softly. "Peter."

"Huh," Peter tries to force himself awake.

"Shhh, baby." Stiles soothes, he presses his lips to Peter's forehead. "I'm just going to the morgue, go back to sleep. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

Peter sighs and he relaxes back onto the mattress. Stiles stays over him for a few minutes longer, pressing another kiss to his sleep-warm skin before he drags himself away into the cold of the early morning hours.

The drive to the morgue is short. The Medical Examiner lets him in and Stiles braces himself for what he's about to do, It's not going to be pleasant, but needs must. At least he has Peter waiting for him in his bed. Stiles has a thought that makes him shiver, _if_ Peter stays.

When Stiles is standing in the morgue, over Macy Young's body, he sends the Medical Examiner away. This is not something for other people to see. The man mutters under his breath and goes to fetch the file with his report in it for Stiles.

Closing his eyes Stiles sends his Spark into the body. The magic fills her and he gets an echo of her last emotions: fear, recognition, sadness. 

Stiles gets a lot of information and he can latch onto the magical signature of Macy Young's killer.

It's a short, yet, exhaustive process but Stiles has new insight. He opens his eyes and pees at her body just as the Medical examiner comes back with the report. He shoves it at Stiles' chest, clearly unhappy.

"Thanks." Stiles gives him a nod. He checks the paper work. "No toxicology report?"

The man pauses briefly as he's pulling the sheet over the body. "I had a little trouble with that." He rubs his his eyes.

Stiles feels a little sorry for the man. He's obviously working overtime on these murder, just like the rest of the police force before the FBI got involved. Flicking his gaze down to the man's ID badge. "Terrell, I appreciate your work. Shall we get a coffee and you can tell me about it?"

The man looks resigned. He nods though and finishes putting the body away, then leads the way to the break room. Terrell flicks on the lights before starting to make the coffee. "My name is Stiles. I know it's a pain having to repeat yourself to so many different cops and agents."

Terrell gives him a wry grin. "It has been a long couple of weeks. Is this what it's like for you all the time?"

"Yeah." Stiles admits.

"Must get lonely." Terrell places a cup of coffee in front of Stiles. The creamer and sugar are set in the middle. "Moving around the country from homicide to homicide. Makes me glad I've got my wife and kids to go home to."

Stiles thinks about Peter asleep in his bed. How he'd like to come home to him all the time. He pushes the glasses up his nose. "How old are your kids?"

"Five." He grins, pulling out his phone from the lab coat pocket. "Twins." Terrell shows Stiles a photo of a beautiful woman with identical twin boys on her lap.

"They're gorgeous. You're a lucky man." Stiles watches as Terrell stares at the photo until the screen goes black. He sets his phone down and Stiles asks "you said something about trouble with the toxicology report?"

Terrell nods. "It's coming back inconclusive. The others all did at first as well. I'll run it again when you've gone."

"Go home. See your wife and sons. It can wait a few more hours. Based on the previous cases there won't be another murder for four days." Stiles stands, he claps a hand on Terrell's shoulder, "I'll be in touch. But go home." 

"Sure." Terrell nods. "I'll be in touch about the results though."

Stiles hands him a card, "get in touch with me directly then go to the Sheriff."

They shake hands and Stiles makes his way back to his car. It's nearing five in the morning, this didn't take as long as he'd expected. Stiles feels his spirits rise as he drives home because he can spend some more time in bed with Peter.

Back at home, Stiles hurries up the stairs and doesn't notice he's holding his breath until he lets it out when he sees the bed. Peter's still there, he's sprawled out more, face tucked into Stiles' pillow. Stiles smiles and sheds his clothing down to his boxers, he lets it fall in a heap on the floor before lifting the covers and joining Peter in the bed. Stiles lies on the edge of the mattress just watching Peter.

"Stop staring," Peter mutters. He lifts an arm and Stiles slides into the warm space against Peter's chest. "Anything useful?"

"Shh," Stiles tucks his cold nose into Peter's neck making him shiver. "Not talking about that now."

They fall silent, Stiles is drifting off to sleep when Peter's arm tightens around him. Stiles fights to stay in that space between sleep and awake as Peter holds him close, but he gets tugged under just as Peter whispers something against his hair.

*

The alarm wakes Stiles with a jolt. Peter's just waking up as well. Unthinkingly, Stiles curls into his chest, fingers scratching through his chest hair before he leans up and presses his lips to Peter's. They fall easily into a gentle morning kiss, it's not deep just comfortable. Almost simultaneously they both realise what they're doing and roll away from each other. Stiles coughs a little, "do you want to shower?"

"I'll go home. Get some clean clothes and you won't be late then."

  
Stiles frowns.

"If I shower here, you'll have to wait for me and then shower yourself and you'll be late to school, _Stuart_."

"You're hilarious," Stiles rolls his eyes. "I don't need a shower. I had one earlier."

Peter looks a little pained. "You need to shower because I can't think straight when you smell like me."

"Oh." Stiles bites his lip. "Right." He walks Peter to the back door, just as Peter turns to leave Stiles puts a hand on his arm. "You're going to be okay?"

The soft smile that Peter send him is beautiful. "Yeah, love. I'll be okay." He leans forward to press a lingering kiss to Stiles' lips. "I'll see you in class."

"Okay," Stiles can't help but smile back as Peter disappears quickly.

He hurries to shower again and get into his 'Stuart' clothes. When he's dressed Stiles makes his way to school, his mind whirring with what he knows, what he has to look out for. It's not going to be easy, not with the amount of students nor with the high emotions. His first class is cancelled for a full school assembly where the principal addresses the student body about the death of one of their own, Macy Young. The teachers are spread around the room, and Stiles cranes his neck to see Peter giving him a small smile when their eyes meet. As Stiles settles back he catches sight of Wendy staring at him, she then flicks her gaze to Peter. It's unsettling. Stiles swallows and keeps his eyes to himself.

The day passes by in a blur of tears and crying from people around him. Stiles feels like an intruder on their grief. No more so than when he is in Peter's classroom. Macy's chair is empty. Peter stands solemnly at the front of the class. "Is that everyone?" He looks around the room. "Come on then." The students stand, bags left on the floor and they walk out, Peter uses his eyebrows to encourage Stiles to follow them. When they're all in the hallway, Peter shuts and locks the classroom door before leading them away.

They end up on a field behind the school gym. Peter makes them sit in a circle, he sits between two other students. "This is not going to be a normal lesson," he say looking at each of them in turn. "How can it be when one of our own has been taken from us so cruelly?"

A few of the girls start to cry openly. A couple of boys shift uncomfortably.

"It's alright to be sad. And angry. The police are doing everything they can to find who has done this to Marcus, Savannah, Joann and Macy." Peter swallows, and he plucks a daisy out of the grass. He twirls it in his fingers. "I want you all to close your eyes." He looks up from the flower to give Stiles a significant look, shifting his gaze to the rest of the students. "Trust me, close your eyes."

Stiles waits until everyone else has done before he too closes his. While Peter talks, Stiles calls up his Spark. He sends it over each student in the circle, broadening the area to encompass the people in the gym and the classrooms beyond. Stiles can't sustain it any further than that, he lets his Spark go with sigh. He opens his eyes, Peter is still talking calmly but his gaze is on Stiles, intense and warming. 

Mouthing a silent "thank you" to him makes Peter nod and he asks the class to slowly open their eyes. "Does anyone have anything they wish to say?"

"About Macy?" A girl asks tearfully.

Peter nods. "Sure, or how you're feeling. Whatever you want to say Genevieve." 

The rest of the lesson passes with a lot of crying, patches of silence, the odd bit of laughter and the students talking about their murdered friends. The bell rings and they all get up, brush off the grass and follow Peter back to his classroom. Wendy is waiting outside, her eyes glassy but her expression serious.

"Wendy," Peter greets cautiously. "Is it me or one of the students you need to see?"

She leans in and talks quietly into Peter's ear. Stiles hears the students tittering, he pays them no mind. He just goes into the classroom and picks up his bag. "Mr Smith," Peter says. Stiles turns, and Wendy is there, just inside the doorway. It's obvious that he's to go with her. 

  
With a sigh, Stiles trudges over to her and she gives him a piercing look then walks away towards her office. Stiles follows her begrudgingly, head down. Outside her office is another student, the same boy that Stiles had first seen. 

  
"I'll be with you in a moment Thomas. I have something to see to first." Wendy smiles kindly at the boy. He slouches against the wall. "In you go, Stuart." 

Stiles goes in and sinks into one of the four chairs, throwing his bag at his feet. The door closes and Wendy comes in. She doesn't say anything. "What-"Wendy holds up her hand.

"We're waiting for someone else." 

Frowning Stiles slumps back. What the fuck is going on, he's even more confused when there's a sharp knock and Peter comes in immediately after. Stiles' eyes are wide. Peter glances at him, then away at Wendy. "Come in, Mr Hale." 

Peter shuts the door firmly, strides across the room to take the chair between Stiles and Wendy. She looks at both of the seriously. "Something very grave has come to my attention." 

Stiles refuses to glance at Peter even though he wants to. 

"I cannot go to Ms Markson, with this because it's information I have been told in confidence." Wendy pauses. It's got to be something big for her to think about involving the principal. 

"What is it, Wendy?" Peter asks, voice light. 

"A student went for an early morning run and saw you, Mr Hale, leaving Stuart's house this morning." Wendy turns her gaze on Stiles, "you, Stuart, were wearing hardly any clothes while Mr Hale, yours were rumpled." 

Stiles closes his eyes. This can't be happening to him. 

"And," Wendy continues, voice hard. "The student witnessed you kissing. And after what I walked in on yesterday afternoon..."

" _Fuck_." Stiles says heartily. He turns his gaze to Peter, who looks ashen. 

"Pete," Wendy says. "I don't want to have to report you for having a relationship with a student. If there's a way to explain this then I'm all ears." Neither of them say anything. They aren't denying it yet Stiles can't jeopardize the investigation.

"Please," Peter says quietly. It takes Stiles a moment to register that it's him Peter is pleading with. "Please."

Swallowing, Stiles sees the moment Peter picks up on the fact that he's not going to break cover. His shoulders slump, and he closes his eyes in acceptance. Wendy puts a hand on his arm.

"Just-" Stiles says, his voice breaks and he clears his throat. "Peter, can I trust her?"

"Yes." Peter says automatically. " _Yes_. I promise you, sweetheart."

Wendy looks as though she's going to say something but Peter puts a hand on her arm. Stiles nods. "Okay, just give me a little time." He closes his eyes and Wendy makes an noise but Peter shushes her. Stiles reaches for his Spark and he knows it makes the air around him shimmer with green hues. Wendy gasps. Stiles can't focus and he loses his Spark. He's too tired, stressed and high-strung right now. This case, the people involved, _Peter_ , are getting to him.

Warm hands hold his, "no, don't open your eyes, sweetheart. Focus. Call up your Spark, that's it. You can do this, love." Peter keeps talking and Stiles can send his Spark out, he knows the magic he's looking for. It's lingering in the waiting room, it's in some of the chairs where the magic user has sat in this room. He finds the trail leading away from the school and loses it on the street. Stiles falls back in the seat. Peter praises him and presses a kiss to the back of his hand when he opens his eyes. Peter's kneeling before him. "Well done, sweetheart. What did you find?"

"What is going on?" Wendy demands, she looks frightened.

"Wendy," Peter moves to his seat, Stiles immediately feels the loss of the warmth of his hands. "He's a Spark."

"I'm here to find the person murdering the students here." Stiles explains.

"You're just a kid." Wendy says, confused. "And it doesn't excuse you sleeping with a student, Pete."

Stiles can't help it, he laughs. "I can't tell you who I am. I'm not a kid. I just look like one. Peter and I go back a long way. That's not important right now. I need to ask you some questions about one of your clients."

Peter puts his hand on Wendy's shoulder. "Trust me, Wendy."

"I do, Pete. It's him." She stares at Stiles, "I don't even know who he is."

"I trust him." Peter says kindly. "With my life, and the lives of our students. Just hear him out, that's all I ask." He nods for Stiles to start talking.

"The cops have kept this from the public but at every crime scene there have been two symbols side by side. One an inverted triangle, the other a normal one. Both equilateral. They're common for witches, usually Wiccan but not originally. Water and fire, they each have many meanings but I think, they refer here to cleansing and punishment. The killings take place four days apart. Four is the number of elements, seasons and so on. In witch-lore it means creativity and connection with emotions. The last victim, Macy Young, recognised her killer. His magic lingers at the crime scene long after the murders have taken place. He's powerful and he's power-hungry. And he's one of your students Wendy, you're the link. All the victims were regular visitors to this office, so is their killer."

Peter looks impressed and proud, Wendy looks overwhelmed.

The phone in Stiles' bag buzzes against the floor. He regretfully pulls it out, "I have to take this." Stiles moves towards the wall, "hello?"

"Agent Stilinski, it's Dr Terrell Williams."

"Terrell, you have the toxicology results?"

"Yes sir, same as the others. Nothing in their systems."

Stiles tongues his cheek as he thinks. "So they're clean?"

Terrell makes a noise. "Not exactly."

"What is it?"

"We know that victim number four was an asthmatic. She was on a regular steroid controller. It was a combination of budesonide and formoterol. The budesonide would be out her system in three to four hours. The formoterol stays in for about ten hours. Time of death was approximate four in the afternoon for that to be out of her system she would have had to have it before six am. According to her parents, and the medication tracker app she had on her phone she took it at about seven am every morning."

"So it shouldn't have been out of her system."

"No." Terrell says. "Something's wiped her system, the same way the crime scenes have been wiped of evidence."

"Terrell, you're a fucking godsend. You know that?"

"My wife tells me that at least once a day." Terrell jokes.

Stiles laughs shortly, "get her some flowers on your way home. Thanks, man."

"I hope it helps."

Slipping the phone into his pocket Stiles turns to face the others. Peter is standing behind the chair where Wendy had been sitting. She's now at her desk by the window, unlocking the bottom drawer. Wendy pulls out a laptop and writes something on a sticky note before handing it Stiles. "My files. And the logon details. You'll find everything you need about the students in there."

"Thank you." Stiles takes the laptop and puts it in his bag, tucking the sticky note into his pocket. "I understand what it means to trust me with this. I won't read what I don't have to." Stiles says, flicking his gaze towards Peter, who inclines his head in thanks. "I have to go. Can I go?"

"You don't need my permission, sweetheart." Peter smirks.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles waves a hand over himself. "I kinda do. I'm still a student here Mr Hale."

Wendy scribbles something else. "Take this to the front desk. You'll be excused for the day."

"Thanks." Stiles gives Peter a lingering look. "I'll see you later?"

Peter is nodding before Stiles finishes his question. "I'll be over after school."

Saluting, Stiles heads out and makes his way to the front desk and signs himself out. He hurries home, he has a lot of work to do.

*

Stiles has been going though the files on the four victims on Wendy's laptop and cross referencing them with the reports on their murders and the police database. The students in their classes and the students that are regular visitors of Wendy's. It's a lot of paperwork to troll through and usually Stiles would have someone helping him with the leg work. There's no one else he trusts to do this though. 

  
There is one file on the screen that Stiles keeps hovering over, he hasn't opened it, partially because he doesn't want to break Wendy's trust but mostly because he's afraid to see what she's written. 

There are names on the list that Stiles immediately discounts. There are ones that don't cross over to all four students and Wendy. It's frustrating. 

A noise in the house makes Stiles sit up. He blearily looks at the clock in the corner of the computer screen. It's almost four, it's probably Peter coming in after school. A niggling voice in the back of Stiles' mind tells him that Peter usually calls out. He reaches for his gun, but it's upstairs in the bedside table drawer. Stiles searches for his Spark but it's weak, overused today and then, there's something pushing against it, trapping it.

Stiles shouts out. There's a pain on the side of his head and he's out cold.

*

It's dark when Stiles wakes up and his head hurts. He pushes through the pain to take stock of any other injuries- no broken bones or major wounds - and take in his surroundings. Stiles appears to be in an old abandoned cellar.

It's dark when Stiles wakes. His head hurts but he takes note of his surroundings. He appears to be in an abandoned cellar.

There's faint light from the edges of an old wooden door and a high window, he's surrounded by stone. Stiles, unlike the other victims, is tied up. There's a zip tie around each wrist and probably another one holding them together. He can't break his arms apart, his legs are taped together with a heavy duty duct tape.

Stiles lets out a frustrated yell. He can't call up his Spark. The witch's magic is too strong for how weak Stiles is feeling.

The wooden door opens and daylight floods in making Stiles blink rapidly as his eyes water. It's a good sign. He hasn't been gone for long, there's hope that Peter has raised the alarm.

The boy, because that's all he is, closes the door behind him. He magic's a few flames that hover around throwing everything into sharp relief.

"Hey," Stiles pulls on his Stuart persona. "What's going on, dude?"

"Shut up." The kid snarls.

Stiles squints. "Haven't I seen you at school? At Wendy's office."

"You've been there a lot." The kid says. "Two times in the last three days. It's a record. You've been at school three days."

Stiles snorts. "I wasn't there by choice, dude." He struggles against the bindings. "First time she wanted to meet me or some shit."

The kid, nods and Stiles can see he's got brown red-rimmed eyes and short red curly hair. "She likes to do that." He steps forward. "And the second time? With Mr Hale as well. The big guns."

"Oh dude, not what you think."

The kid quirks his eyebrows. "No? What am I thinking?"

"Doc got Mr Hale in because I needed extra support or something." Stiles struggles to get on his knees, he leans forward. The kid bends closer, not close enough though. "Not true. So fucking not true."

"So why was he in there too?" He looks so interested, almost hungry.

"What's you're name, dude? I'm Stuart."

The boy tuts. "Not how we're doing this. You answer my questions truthfully, Stuart."

"Or what?"

The boy pulls out a gun, "or you'll die."

Stiles eyes the gun. He knows the kid will be able to kill him while he's trussed up like a turkey on Thanksgiving. In his mind he quickly runs through the way the other victims were killed: smothering, poison, slit throat, throttling.

The kid smacks Stiles with the side of the gun, making pain bloom along the edge of his jaw. "Well? Why did Wendy bring Mr Hale in?"

Stiles grins, "because she found out we're fucking."

"No way. Mr Hale wouldn't do that."

Stiles feels a little proud that Peter has such a reputation. "He stayed at mine last night, someone saw him leave and told Wendy. She walked in on us making out."

The kid stops. His face full of disbelief but there's something that makes him rethink.

Outside a twig snaps and Stiles freezes at the sound. The boy twirls around slowly as if he can find out who or what is out there. "I'll kill him," the boy shouts. "I'll kill your Spark, wolf."

Stiles closes his eyes. He honestly hopes Peter's not out there right now. The faces Stiles again. "You're not really a student, are you?"

"Yeah. Stuart Smith, I'm a senior. Eighteen last month. You're what twelve?"

"Fifteen. Next week." The kid, and fuck he's really a kid, says nonchalantly. "You're a Spark. I saw you looking at the police files."

"They're my dad's, dude. He's the cop. I'm just a nosy as fuck kid." Stiles is starting to sense some real danger from the boy. He has no idea how he's going to get out of this. There have been no more sounds from outside, it probably was a raccoon or something breaking the twig.

"But you are a Spark." It's not a question.

"And you're a witch." Stiles licks his lips. "You're using witch-lore. Mainly water and fire right. You're cleansing the earth and punishing those who aren't in touch with their emotions like you are."

"Go on." The boy looks entertained now. It actually scares Stiles.

"You are though. So in touch with them. That's why four is such an important number to you. It's about the balance in witch-lore. The balance of the elements, seasons and emotions. That's why the offerings, sacrifices right? That's why they were four days apart." Stiles is talking fast now because the kid is advancing holding the gun up. "Except for me, but you took me at four o'clock in the afternoon. You're waiting for twilight." Stiles says with dawning realisation. "The time for the water element. Why?"

"I'm cleansing the world of your presence."

Stiles frowns at him. The cool metal of the gun rests on the centre of his forehead. "Peter," Stiles gets it now. "You've bugged Wendy's office. That's how you know who goes in and how often. Whether someone is lying. You're going to protect Mr Hale by cleansing my presence from his life, this world."

The gun presses harder into his skin. Irrationally Stiles thinks, that's going to bruise, but it won't because he's going to be dead and there's nothing he can do about it. "That's right. Any last words?"

"I don't suppose you'll tell Peter that I'm sorry, will you?" Stiles asks.

"Correct again." The kid smirks and Stiles closes his eyes resigned to his fate. He can only hope the other agents will pick up who it is from what Stiles managed to piece together before he was kidnapped.

The gunshot is loud, Stiles doesn't have time to flinch before he's hitting the floor under the dead weight of the kid. The door bursts open, deputies and FBI agents alike come streaming in guns raised.

The body of the kid is pulled off Stiles and he is hauled up. An officer briefly pats him down for any major injuries then he's untied.

Rubbing his wrists Stiles staggers out the door, a deputy close by but he keeps refusing her assistance. Sheriff de Vega is outside the cellar with Stiles' handler Agent Boone and surprisingly Peter and Wendy.

"Stilinski. We need to debrief." Boone says firmly. Stiles nods once. He knows the procedure. Peter is looking at him knowingly, he takes half a step forward as if he knows Stiles is on the precipice of an emotional outburst.

"Yes sir." Stiles follows Boone and de Vega away to a truck where he debriefs them on the case. Especially what happened in the cellar. He's perfunctory about it, doesn't stumble of the fact that the gun was pressed to his forehead and he'd thought he was dead the moment the shot sounded.

Boone claps him on the shoulder. "Go home. Get some rest. Hand in your case notes in the morning then your on mandatory two week leave. Understood Stilinski."

"Understood, sir."

"Thank you, Agent Stilinski." The Sheriff says kindly. "One of the deputies will take you to your home now." He nods and she signals a man forward.

Stiles sort of loses times between following the deputy and getting home, then suddenly he's standing in the bathroom staring at the three bruises on his face. One on his temple, another on his jaw and the third forming where the gun was pushed into his skin. Next thing he knows, he's standing under the too hot spray and his eyes burn.

Falling to his knees Stiles curls in on himself. He's never felt so helpless, not since the Nogitsune. He was prepared to die and that terrifies him because he'd lost his Spark and his will to fight.

"Shhh," someone soothes. The water is switched off and Stiles is scooped up and firm hands start to dry him off. His vision is hazy but Stiles knows and he sobs in relief when Peter finally pulls him into the tightest hug. "Shhh, love. Let it out, you're safe now."

With the permission given Stiles sobs uncontrollably. He's been scared before but he's never given up. It's shaken a core part of himself that Stiles had always thought was unbreakable.

Peter talks to him constantly, rubs his hands over Stiles' skin. Eventually, when Stiles shivers from the cold and his sobs have subsided into shaky breaths Peter picks him up and carries him to the bedroom. He wiped Stiles' face with the towel then tosses it into the floor. He never stops touching Stiles as he pulls the covers back and tucks Stiles in. His hand briefly leave Stiles so he can undress himself, then Peter is instantly under the covers pulling Stiles' body up against his own.

"Sorry," Stiles whispers into the skin of Peter's chest.

"You have nothing to apologise for." Peter says kindly. "I'm just glad we found you."

"How?"

"It's unimportant right now." Peter presses a lingering, firm kiss to Stiles' forehead. "What's important is that you're here."

"I love you." Stiles admits. He has to say it. "I- you need to know so you'll never be left wondering."

Peter shifts down the bed so they're laying face to face. "Still?"

It's not what Stiles expected him to say. But he doesn't know why he was hoping for reciprocation. "I never stopped."

Gentle fingers stroke down Stiles' cheek. "You're not alone, sweetheart."

Stiles bites his lip.

"I told you yesterday, God is that how long it's been?" Peter scrubs a hand over his eyes. "Feels like months have passed. Anyway, love, I told you yesterday that you didn't fall in love alone. Well you didn't not fall out of alone either."

"That's a very complicated way of saying it, baby."

Peter's eyes flutter closed and he smiles. It takes until Stiles has pecked him on the corner of his mouth for him to open them again. "I love you Stiles."

Slowly, Stiles leans in and they kiss deep and wet. Stiles rolls onto his back, pulling Peter on top of him. He arches his back to push their ground together. "Sweetheart," Peter mutters against Stiles' mouth, "you've just been through quite an ordeal."

"Make me feel alive, Peter." Stiles wraps his legs around Peter's hips.

"You're hurt." Peter touches a finger to the bruise on Stiles' jaw.

"You'll be gentle, baby, you know how to take care of me." Stiles whispers before bringing their lips together again in another long, wet kiss.

Peter shifts to bring their hips together, he rocks into the space as they kiss. Stiles' dick is halfway hard and it won't take him long to get all the way there. He breaks from the kiss to moan, eyes screwed shut and tears leak from the corners down to his temples.

"Oh sweetheart," Peter whispers softly. He stops moving his hips and presses gentle, barely There kisses over Stiles' face. "Talk to me, love. Tell me what you're thinking."

"I-" Stiles coughs. "Peter," he blinks his eyes open and looks up at the man hovering just above him. "I gave up. I was ready to die and now..."

"Stiles, love, you accepted death in the moment that Thomas had the gun to your head, correct?" He thumbs the sore spot on Stiles' forehead. "That doesn't mean you're ready to die. You've just got to process this."

Peter moves so he's laying on his back, manhandling until Stiles is draped over his chest. He makes a rumble in his chest, fingers trailing up and down Stiles' spine. "Go to sleep, Stiles. I'm not going anywhere."

It takes a while but Stiles does drift off to sleep. He's so emotionally and physically drained that he doesn't dream.

*

True to his word, Peter is there when Stiles wakes. He's still stroking over Stiles' skin. "Morning. You slept well I take it?"

Stiles rolls on his back to stretch. It feels good. "Yeah. Did you sleep at all?"

"Some."

"Thank you."

Peter eyes him, "of course."

There's an awkwardness that Stiles can't seem to shake. It's like Peter is holding himself back. Stiles remembers how Peter gently turned him down for sex and maybe, even though he said he loves Stiles, Peter doesn't really love him. Not anymore. It hurts, makes Stiles feel winded. He searches for a safe topic to distract himself from the ache in his chest. "Do you have work today?"

"No, Julia has closed the school for today. Giving everyone a long weekend. It's been a tough few weeks people need to understand what the hell happened."

Stiles reaches out and brushes Peter's upper arm with a finger. "Tell me about him, Thomas."

Immediately Peter shakes his head but it's in disbelief. "I don't understand it. I heard what you said to him, explaining why he did it. Cleansing the weak and punishing them but he was fourteen."

"You can't have seen it Peter."

"Perhaps not, Wendy should have. She'll be devastated."

Stiles bites his lip. "Wendy did see it. She saw tendencies in him."

Peter props himself up on his elbow. A frown marring his handsome face. "You read his file?" There's a tone in his voice.

"I did. I cross referenced the victims' time slots with the regular students either side just in case. Thomas came in after Joann. He wasn't really a suspect." Stiles catches Peter's gaze. "I'll be honest there was one file that I wanted to read. I didn't but it's niggling at the back of my mind to know what she saw."

"Right." Peter physically moves back, putting space between them.

"It's not your file Peter."

"It's yours," Peter breathes with awareness. "You want to know what she wrote about you."

"Yep. Wendy is very perceptive, she's good at her job picks up on things that most people don't." Stiles lets out a sigh. "I want to know if I gave myself away. I mean she picked up that I 'had a crush' on you, her words."

Peter doesn't say anything in response. And Stiles is about to open his mouth to put his foot in it even more when his phone rings and he's saved from having to make a complete idiot of himself in front of Peter. He turn over to reach the nightstand. "Stilinski."

"It's Boone. I need you to get your notes together and hand them in. I'm at the Sheriff's department. Bring them in for nine." Stiles glances at the clock. It's just after eight now.

"Yes sir."

Boone hangs up. Slowly Stiles puts the phone down. Behind him Peter shifts on the bed. "I-"

"I heard." Peter says. There's a rush of cold air as he gets out. Stiles can't look at him as Peter begins to pull on his clothes. "I'll get out of your hair."

"You don't have to go, Peter. I won't be long."

Peter pauses in the middle of doing up his belt. "You'll be gone soon enough. Two weeks leave and then you're back out there." He looks up but doesn't quite meet Stiles' eyes. He goes to say something, head tipping to the side and he starts to shake it, face sad. 

"Don't." Stiles bites out. "Don't say it. It's clear you don't want to be here." Stiles flings the overs off. He shivers as the cold air hits his naked skin but he throws his shoulders back. Peter looks him over, eyes lingering on the scars and muscles that weren't there the last time they were naked together. "Just go, Peter."

"You don't have say it like that." Peter says tiredly.

Stiles scoffs. "You want to leave first, right? Don't want to be the one left behind like you were last time. That's it, isn't it?"

Peter's silence is affirmation enough.

Hurt and feeling rejected Stiles mutters "I'm going to shower." He stomps out of the room aware that this is the last time he'll see Peter.

*

At nine o'clock sharp Stiles is striding into the Sheriff's station. The deputies give him nods and he shifts his satchel higher on his shoulder, before he knocks on the Sheriff's door.

"Come in." de Vega calls out.

Stiles enters, she's behind her desk and Agent Boone is in one of the visitor's chairs. Stiles sits in the empty one.

"Agent Stilinski, I want to thank you again, on behalf of this town for what you did." de Vega says.

Shaking his head, Stiles replies "I did what any agent in my position would do. Sheriff would you mind giving us the room please?"

Her eyebrows furrow together but she nods, "I'll go and make some coffee." She leaves the room and once the door is shut behind her Stiles opens his satchel. He takes out the files and hands them over.

Agent Boone looks down at them. "You didn't sent de Vega out to give me the files."

"No sir." He reaches into his satchel again and pulls out his badge and his gun. Stiles gives them to Boone as well.

"Stilinski. You've been through a hell of an ordeal, this looks like a rash decision."

"It's not. I don't want to do this anymore." Stiles says honestly.

Boone nods. "I'll hold onto these for the two weeks mandatory leave, then if you change your mind I'll give them back."

"I won't."

"Then I will pass the information further up the chain and your resignation will be handled adequately." Boone holds out a hand for him to shake, "it's been a privilige working with you Agent."

"The honour is all mine." Stiles shakes his hand then stands. He walks out of the station with his head high and a lightness to his shoulders that is countered by the heavy weight in his chest. Stiles has one more stop to make on the way home.

The house he pulls up in front of is small, garden well tended and full of flowers. It's a beautifully presented house. Stiles sits in the car for a couple of minutes to take a few calming breaths. All too soon he's knocking on the door and it opens quickly. "Hello Wendy."

"Stuart," she smiles. "I mean Agent Stilinski."

"Stiles, just call me Stiles. I'm not an agent any more."

Wendy looks surprised. "That's a big decision to make especially after what happened yesterday." She narrows her eyes at him. "Or is it _because_ of what happened yesterday?"

With a shrug Stiles shifts from foot to foot. "There were other determining factors."

"Pete." Wendy says. She's perceptive. "You love him."

"It doesn't matter. It's not enough. Look I just came by to-"

"You mean you think you're not enough."

Stiles looks away from her too-knowing gaze. He knows he's not enough. He has nothing to give except himself and Peter made it clear that he didn't want what Stiles was offering when he couldn't get out quick enough this morning. Peter had been so desperate to be the one to leave, to not be left behind. "He made it clear that I'm not." Stiles says firmly. "I just came to give you this back." He pulls her laptop out of his bag, and pushes it into her chest so she has no choice but to take it. As soon as she does, he turns and walks down the path.

"Stiles."

Closing his eyes, Stiles refuses to turn around. He knows that voice, and of course Peter came to Wendy. His friend, confidante and psychiatrist. Stiles should have figured he'd been here.

"Stiles," Peter says again, and there are footsteps.

When he turns around Peter is standing right behind him. Stiles licks his lips. There's so much he wants and needs to say but no words are coming out. And Peter's just there, standing in front of him, waiting for Stiles to speak. With a small shake of his head, Stiles turns to leave.

"Stiles, sweetheart." Peter's voice is full of desperation.

"I-" Stiles starts to say but he's cut off by Peter leaning forward, sliding a hand around the back of Stiles' head and pulling him in for a kiss. Easily, Stiles falls into it. His arms come up to wrap around Peter's waist, clutching at his back. When the kiss ends Peter rests his forehead against Stiles'.

"You gave up your job."

"I handed in my badge and my gun. I don't want to do that anymore. I want to _live_."

Peter smiles beautifully. "I'm so happy to hear that, love."

The endearment makes Stiles tense, Peter notices and he pulls back to look Stiles in the face. "Don't say it if you don't mean it."

"How can you think I don't mean it?" Peter asks disbelievingly. "I told you last night I love you, I've always loved you."

Stiles bites his lip. "I..."

"Don't believe it?" Peter nods. "It's my own fault. I never told you before and I should have every damned day. I'll show you how much you mean to me, sweetheart."

"Soon." Stiles promises. "I think I'm going to go and see my dad. Spend some time with him and Nadia. I'm not, Peter, I'm not leaving you."

Peter smiles at him. "You're taking time. I understand. I'll be here," he laughs a little looking around. "Well in this town, not right here in Wendy's garden."

Smiling wetly Stiles, presses his lips to Peter's cheek. "I'll keep in touch."

"You better." Peter tugs him into a tight hug. "You take care of yourself," he whispers fiercely into Stiles' ear.

Stiles holds him tighter, making the hug linger just that little bit longer.

*

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

Stiles gets out of the taxi, glancing up at the building as he does so. It's been a long time since he was here. The last six months Stiles spent time with his dad, resigned from the FBI, got therapy and spent time working on himself. It took a lot to come to terms with the loss of his Spark, whatever Thomas had done to him to keep his Spark down hadn't died with him. Stiles is back to being one hundred percent human, it had been even easier to walk away from the job knowing that. Stiles kept in touch with Peter through text and phone calls, once Stiles had gotten himself a phone because he'd had to hand his one back in to the Bureau. 

He enters the school, it's quieter than when he was here last. Then again, it is school holidays and there aren't any students about. He strides down the hallway, intent on his destination. "Excuse me, you can't be here."A voice calls out to him, footsteps hurrying up behind him. 

Stiles is turning and he faces Wendy with a smile. "Hello Wendy."

"You have hair!" She grins back. "Pete's going to be so happy you're here."

"I'm hoping to surprise him." Stiles confesses. "He doesn't know I'm back in town."

Wendy gives him a fond look. "You're going to get the surprise. He's not here."

"What?"

She puts her hands out, "oh no. He's here, he's just not _here_. At the school."

"Peter said he was coming in today to get the classroom set up." Stiles frowns.

"He's been and gone. Pete's efficient."

Stiles nods in agreement. "Is he at home?"

Wendy nods. "Yeah. Do you need a lift, honey?"

"I'd like that." Stiles falls into step with her as they leave the school. He's not intimidated by her anymore, nor her relationship with Peter. It had taken him a while to understand that he was jealous of Wendy, and who Peter had become with her help. It's for the better, for Peter, he's a more wholesome person now but a decent sized part of Stiles had wanted to be that person for Peter. When he wasn't, he saw it as a failure and a shortcoming of himself.

The car is small but clean. "Thank you, Wendy." Stiles sits comfortably in the passenger seat.

She glances at him then focuses on the road. "You seem a lot happier, Stiles."

"I am. I think I'm ready."

"I'm glad. Pete's been waiting for this, for you, for a long time." Wendy lowers her voice, "he never thought he'd be good enough or lucky enough to get you back. When he first came here Pete knew he'd messed up, that he was messed up and-"

"Wendy, I think if anyone should be telling me this, it's Peter. Not you." Stiles says as kindly as he can. She has the grace to look ashamed."I already know. Peter and I talk. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to inside now." 

"Sure, honey." Wendy gives him a grateful smile, as she pulls up outside Peter's house. "I'll see you soon?"

"Of course." Stiles gets out the car. He almost runs to the front door and knocks on it. He can't stop bouncing on his feet. The door opens and Peter is already smiling. "Hi baby," Stiles says in the moment before he flings himself into Peter's arms to hold him close.

Peter hauls him inside to kick the door shut then tugs on Stiles' hair to move his head back so they can kiss. It's frantic and deep, Stiles sucks on Peter's tongue. Peter palms his ass hands sliding down to Stiles' thigh encouraging him to lift his legs. Stiles winds them round Peter's waist, he doesn't even stumble at the extra weight. Peter's walking them somewhere and Stiles doesn't even look up from where he's kissing Peter, mapping out his mouth with his tongue.

Soon enough Stiles is being set on a bed, he pulls Peter down with him. "Fuck, baby, I missed you."

"I love you, sweetheart." Peter pants, his hands pulling his own shirt off and then tugging at Stiles' top.

Stiles has to stop him to kiss him again. They'd talked about this, the sexual element of their relationship. It's something they both want, and they've spent the last six months building on their residual feelings relearning each other and falling in love again. Stiles has waited a long time to get his hands on Peter's skin. As they kiss Peter drops his body down so their chests are pressing together. "Baby," Stiles whispers into Peter's ear.

By a mutual unspoken agreement they break apart to quickly rid themselves of their trousers, while Stiles struggles as his trousers and underwear get caught on his shoes Peter gets the lube out the bedside drawer and starts to slick his fingers. "Top or bottom?" He asks Stiles, breathlessly.

"I don't care. You choose. We both know it's going to be the other way round next time." Stiles growls as his fingers fumble over the knots in his laces. "Who the fuck tied these so tight?"

"That would be you, love." Peter laughs, then it turns to a moan. When Stiles looks at him he's pumping two fingers into himself. "Concentrate on what you're doing Stiles."

"But you look so good, baby." Stiles whines. He stops messing with the laces and yanks the shoe off, the other one follows quickly and Stiles is finally free of his clothing. Stiles is crawling to kneel between Peter's thighs, he ducks his head to lap at Peter's cock while adding one of his fingers in alongside Peter's. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," Peter nods, he pulls his fingers out, ours some more lube onto them that he then smears over Stiles' cock. "Fuck me, Stiles."

Stiles holds his cock still and presses in. When they were fucking regularly back in Beacon Hills, a lifetime ago, they didn't do this often. Peter never wanted Stiles to have this power of him, and when Peter did bottom he always did so from the top. Stiles never got to be the one inside and over him. It's a weighted moment the second the head of his cock breaches Peter and it takes Stiles' breath away. After a slight pause, where Peter strokes a hand down Stiles' arm before tangling their fingers together, Stiles pushes all the way in. 

"Oh, baby," Stiles moans.

"Say," Peter sucks in a breath, "say my name, Stiles, _please_."

Leaning down to press their lips together, Stiles whispers into his mouth, "Peter." He pulls his hips back and pushes his hips in fast and hard, it's no going to take long, they've been building to this for a long time. "Peter, fuck, Peter. You feel so good, baby, so perfect for me."

Peter's making these little 'ah-ah-ah' noises. It overwhelming and he looks gorgeous laid back, legs spread as Stiles pushes his cock into him over and over. "Look at you, Peter. You're going to ruin this for me. I'm never going to do anything but fuck you for the rest of my life."

"Please, Stiles," Peter whines, his eyes burning bright blue as he stares up at him and his fingers tight where they're wrapped around Stiles'.

"Touch yourself, come on, Peter, I want to see you come for me." Stiles whispers, he focuses on pushing into Peter harder and faster. It doesn't take Peter, long, just a few strokes and a twist of his wrist then he's coming over his chest and belly. He clenches around Stiles, who pushes in as far as he can go before coming. "Peter, Peter, Peter," Stiles chants as he comes. Stiles shifts, his soft cock sliding out of the wet warmth of Peter's body. He flops onto Peter's chest, getting them both messy with his come. "God, that was-"

"Amazing. Brilliant. Phenomenal. All of the above." Peter offers with a laugh.

Stiles tucks his nose against Peter's throat, another first. "You were right."

"I know." Peter wraps his arm around Stiles, and brings their joined hands up to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of Stiles' hand. "About what?"

"You did ruin me." Stiles feels Peter still underneath him. He leans up, bracing an arm over Peter's chest so he can look him in the face. "It's okay though. It's a good ruining. Not in the way you think, or thought you wanted to. You've ruined me for anyone else. Out of seven billion people, there's no one else on this planet for me Peter Hale. I love you, I choose to love you every day."

Peter's face softens into a fond expression. "Marry me?"

"Yes." Stiles replies with no hesitation, grin breaking out across his face. Peter tugs him down for a kiss. It's gentle but deep. Stiles breaks it to rest his head back on Peter's chest, hearing his heartbeat thumping. 

"We should clean up," Peter says lightly though he makes no effort to move. "We'll be stuck together."

"You're stuck with me anyway." Stiles whispers against his skin.

Peter huffs out a little laugh. "With you, yes. To you, no. Come on, up you get."

"You're so comfy."

"If you get up now, I'll rim you in the bath." Peter knows how to play to Stiles' weaknesses.

"I'm up." Stiles kisses Peter then heads for the en suite. Peter limps along behind him, it makes Stiles smirk. They lean against each other as the bath fills with hot water and the steam surrounds them.

Peter presses his lips to Stiles' temple. "I have something for you." Peter reaches into one of the drawers of vanity. He pulls out a small black bag, he digs into it and pulls out a golden band. "Here." Peter slides it onto Stiles' ring finger it's a perfect fit. There's a look on Peter's face, as if he doesn't want Stiles to ask him how long he's had that ring hidden away waiting for Stiles. It doesn't matter though, they're together and it's more than Stiles ever thought he'd have.

He's happy. "We'll have to get one for you, too." Stiles says.

Peter gives him a genuinely happy smile. "Yes, okay. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." Stiles agrees, and he leans in for another kiss, just because he can.

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm on tumblr](https://cathcer1984.tumblr.com/). Come prompt me.
> 
> I got 10k in before I realised I'd named her Wendy, bloody _Peter and Wendy_.
> 
> I know this is an unrealistic time frame but Stiles has magic. Speeds things along a bit.


End file.
